


but i will remember your light

by pikapegasus



Series: it's only you (who i loved) [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, F/F, Identity Issues, Kara Danvers Character Study, Kara Danvers Needs a Hug, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikapegasus/pseuds/pikapegasus
Summary: Kara interprets that validation of her humanity from Lena as validation of her entire self, as a person in general.And that’s where she went wrong—for both their sakes.Because now, as Lena looks to her, hurt, angry, confused, already months into knowing the Supergirl secret on her own, Kara has never felt more “alien.”
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Series: it's only you (who i loved) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692103
Comments: 16
Kudos: 248





	but i will remember your light

**Author's Note:**

> alright friends i don't watch this show anymore, but i did see the s5 premiere with all of lena and kara's angst over the supergirl secret, so i'm basically using that reveal moment except instead of lena pretending to be supportive she's just outright upset
> 
> this is mostly a kara character study with supercorp like there as Part of it, but the main focus is on kara and her relationship to being an alien/refugee/immigrant from krypton bc i feel like that doesn't get a lot of focus in fics or in the show (and when it does it isn't like. Great) !! so enjoy
> 
> (title is from "like a river runs" by bleachers which i am Convinced is kara danvers' theme song now)

Kara feels the winds of Krypton with her when she flies.

As she pierces Earth’s blue sky, passing humans overhead in the blink of an eye, the sun’s yellow rays seeping into her skin, she exhales the last breaths of Krypton, inhaling Earth’s air in replacement. Below, humans look to her with wonder and glee; elsewhere in the city, she knows, her Earth family thinks of her, awaits her presence.

Even now, so many years after her departure from Krypton—and her arrival on Earth, she thinks in a glass-half-full-way—she still feels Krypton’s legacy, hopes, and dreams, carrying her across the sky.

But while such pride fuels the wind beneath her metaphorical wings, it comes with a burden that she’s certain she’ll never shoulder properly.

And while the people of National City, her people, look up to her, she can’t help the burning sensation, the _need_ , to hide away.

***

Of course, she doesn’t _actually_ hide away; she’s _Supergirl_ , has been for years. She can’t just take off and never return when people depend on her.

And yet, as she surrounds herself with her Earth family, her _chosen_ family, following along their excited and quick conversations in a language second to her near-dead native tongue, she swallows her ever-present fears of being a fraud, an imposter.

(What scares her most are the times she practices Kryptonian to herself, whether it be in speech or thought, having so few people to interact with in the language, and she finds herself stumbling, _hesitating_ on words, as the English equivalents fling themselves to the front of her mind, drowning out the Kryptonian.)

Perhaps, after all, she _is_ an imposter—an alien masking as a human, assimilating to the point of no return for her culture of origin, yet never enough to fully shed her alien heritage.

That word, _alien_ , leaves a sour taste in her mouth at the thought, as she thinks of its generally negative connotation in human conversation, even humans trying to label _each other_ as such.

(She recalls Kenny Li telling her of such experiences in high school, with other humans of a different heritage than his family’s attacking them for their difference.

It’s humbling, Kara thinks, to remember that no matter the species, difference in appearance and heritage lead to conflict, to oppression, to _death_.)

After first landing on Earth and learning Kal-El—Clark—managed to take care of himself in her twenty-four years of absence, Kara accepted her one, final goal: _survive_.

Survive for her people, her planet, her parents, their legacy. Survive because others were not so fortunate to have that same chance.

(“No,” Kara remembers Alex protesting once, when Kara had mustered up the courage to confide in her about these feelings. “You need to survive—to _live_ —for yourself, Kara. Obviously, Krypton and your family are still important, too. But you living your life, in the way you choose that makes you happiest and healthiest—you _flourishing_ continues their legacy.”

It makes sense. Too much sense. Kara decides to say nothing in reply, her heart still unconvinced.)

Kara wasn’t sure how to communicate these feelings to others, aside from Alex, until she took a class on American immigration history in college, in National City—a place that’s as diverse as they come in the U.S. She read the testimonies and experiences of countless immigrants— _immigrant_ , she tried on herself, not quite sure she can claim such a label as the ever-controversial “alien,” but it left a much better taste in her mouth—and learned that her feelings aren’t quite so misplaced. The class gave her the language to translate her feelings into English words—imposter syndrome, displacement, the works.

While that knowledge made Kara feel seen in a way she’d never felt before, she remembered it wasn’t quite for her.

(Until she got involved with some student advocacy for undocumented immigrants, and realized that maybe, just maybe, her experiences aren’t that exclusive.)

Now as an adult, an “alien,” a “Supergirl,” Kara has found a few ways to cope with the disconnect she feels from her human friends and family.

It’s a passable effort, enough that she can get out of bed in the morning without feeling the weight of Krypton on her shoulders too heavily on a day-to-day basis, until Lena Luthor happens.

***

Being close with Lena actually does wonders for Kara and her struggle to live with a foot in two different worlds. Lena never suspects a thing about Kara’s heritage—at least, not in the way Kara worries about.

For once, Kara can just focus on being “human,” ignoring the line she straddles between “human” and “alien” whenever she’s with those who know the truth.

It’s not that Kara wants to _completely_ assimilate into Earth life. She loves Krypton and its culture. She just needs to pass _enough_ that Lena and the other humans in her life who don’t know that part about her don’t look at her like she’s, well, _from another planet_.

(At the same time, the harsh words she’s given to or spoken about Clark and his apparent lack of interest in Krypton, concurrent with his seemingly complete assimilation into Earth culture, burn themselves into her mind, accusing and judgmental in a poor attempt to validate herself and her own disrupted childhood.

“The 1.5 generation,” she remembers her immigration history professor at National City University saying. “They are the children who immigrate with their parents. The first generation of children born to an immigrant here are considered second generation American, making their parents first generation American. So, those caught in between, who maybe came here as children or teenagers, who remember life before immigration—they are the 1.5 generation.”

Kara never took so many notes in such a short time in a class until that lecture, though she knew it still didn’t quite apply to her.)

Kara interprets that validation of her humanity from Lena as validation of her entire self, as a person in general.

And that’s where she went wrong—for _both_ their sakes.

Because now, as Lena looks to her, hurt, angry, _confused_ , already months into knowing the Supergirl secret on her own, Kara has never felt more “alien.”

***

She doesn’t leave her apartment for days, except for the occasional Supergirl emergency.

In addition to the encounter with Lena replaying over and over in her mind, other words, in English and Kryptonian, bounce around Kara’s mind, like that dumb old “DVD Video” logo that would bounce around her TV screen after a movie in the 2000s.

She considers her identities. Human. Kryptonian.

She considers her last names. Danvers. Zor-El.

She considers her homes. Earth. Krypton.

(You’re only supposed to have one, right?)

Alex brings her food nearly every day, at first with a silent, exasperated, “I told you so,” constantly on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be spoken, until she begins to realize the depth of this—this _identity crisis_ Kara has once again found herself in.

“You’re a Danvers. You’re from the House of El,” Alex says, effortlessly, over pizza. “You can be both. You’ve always been both.”

But, Kara doesn’t say, she’s not sure she wants to be both—to have to _maintain_ both.

Instead, she swallows the tiniest bite of pizza, and says, “Sometimes, I wish I could just be like Clark—“

“Kara,” Alex gently interjects, knowing all too well what her sister would say, about regrets and assimilation and tales of a long lost, forgotten home.

At the admonishment, Kara just rests her chin on the table, her face level with her plate of half-eaten pizza. “I just wish I was human.”

“Kara,” Alex repeats.

“Don’t tell me I am. I—I’m not,” Kara continues, gaining conviction as she speaks, slowly raising her head. “I guess I could count as a transracial—well, transspecies—adoptee. But that’s it. You told me Kara Danvers is your hero. What about Kara Zor-El? The girl who first moved in with you? Why—why do they have to be _different?_ ”

She blinks tears away, unsure she’s even making sense. Since becoming Supergirl, she’s started seeing herself as multiple people trying to all live at once, in one body, with one persona at the front. And that terrifies her—because that means that neither Kara Danvers nor Kara Zor-El, on their own, can be a full person. She’s just—

She’s made up of fragments, is what she is. A human-passing persona. An alien-passing persona. And now, a superhero persona.

As one of the tears she tried to hold back breaks through anyway, slipping down her cheek, Alex stands from her seat, slipping around the table to instead stand beside Kara, pulling her into a hug, fingers running through Kara’s hair.

“What I meant was,” Alex begins slowly, “you don’t have to be a public superhero all day, every day, for me to consider you _my_ hero—or just a good person worthy of love in general. You’ve always had my love, and others’. And I’m proud of the work you do as Supergirl. But, as with any job so emotionally and physically demanding, you have to balance that with time for yourself and self-care. Does that make sense?”

Kara nods slowly against Alex’s midsection.

“And like I’ve said before,” Alex continues, “the therapist at the D.E.O. is actually pretty helpful…”

Kara groans dramatically against Alex, prompting a laugh from her.

“At least think about it?” Alex asks, and Kara nods with a little more certainty this time.

***

She sees Clark a few days later, as he just so happened to drop in to visit on a whim, which he does occasionally to check on her.

“Lena Luthor knows?” he asks her warily, and if he makes this a _thing_ , she swears to Rao, she’ll fly away at a thousand miles an hour.

“Lex told her before I did,” Kara says distantly, really hoping this isn’t about to be a _thing_.

Clark just looks at her. “You know how I feel about this.”

Kara’s already revving her internal, metaphorical engine, to just _go_ —

“But I trust your judgment,” he finishes.

Oh. Well.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s dangerous,” he reminds. “But you’re strong, Kara. And I’m always here to help. And, as much as it pains me to say it, if there’s any hope…Lena is far better to have as an ally, rather than a villain.”

His eyes reflect a certain, long-lasting pain Kara knows will always weigh heavily in Clark’s heart from Lex, not unlike the way Krypton constantly weighs heavily on her own emotional well-being. She nods.

“I’m working on it,” she says vaguely, if having an entire identity crisis counts as “working on it.”

“Good,” he says, standing up.

“Clark?” Kara asks, before he can cross the room to her window for his departure. “Do you—can I call you Kal? Or would you prefer Clark?”

Clark looks at her, questioning. “You’ve never asked me that before.”

“It’s just—it’s a whole thing,” she says, again, vaguely. “I’m sorry for the times I was mean about Krypton. You had no way of knowing anything about it. You have every right to consider Earth your home.”

Clark takes a moment to process her words, his lips pressed in a firm, thoughtful line. “You’re the only person who’s ever called me Kal-El—that I can remember. I…I like it.”

Kara swallows against a sudden lump in her throat, smiling as she nods.

“Earth is more my home than Krypton ever was,” Clark says. “And I don’t mean that maliciously. It’s just the truth. My first memories are of Earth.”

“Yeah,” Kara says, soft.

“When you arrived, the idea of learning more about Krypton was terrifying. It felt like my entire idea of ‘home’ was uprooted,” Clark confesses. “It’s still scary, sometimes. But I do enjoy learning more about Krypton from you, when we’re in the right time and place.”

Kara interprets that to mean the right headspace, and she can’t agree more. Sometimes, she just doesn’t have the energy to regurgitate the history and culture of an entire planet to others who’ve never experienced it.

“No hard feelings, Kara,” Clark continues, now smiling. “I think, given your experiences, it’s only natural you might get upset about it every now and then.”

“Thank you,” Kara says. “Kal.”

Clark— _Kal-El_ —stands up straighter then, hugging her one last time before heading to her window.

***

Kara finally leaves her apartment for Kara-purposes— _no_ , she stops herself, resisting the urge to fall back into her fragmented self-perception. She takes a deep breath, closes her door, and starts again.

Kara finally leaves her apartment to go back to work at CatCo. Later, she knows, she will probably leave CatCo to catch some work at her second job—as National City’s beloved superhero.

Reporter by day, superhero by night, and always, _always_ Kara throughout.

But before any of that, today, first comes Lena.

Kara had thought about dropping in on her balcony at L-Corp via flying, then decided against it. She then thought about dropping into her office for an impulsive lunch via walking, then also decided against that.

She’d settled on a simple text asking to talk.

And for some reason, Lena actually replied with a _yes_.

So, before Kara goes to CatCo, she’s stopping by L-Corp for this big chat.

Kara would be lying if she said she didn’t feel nervous. But, according to her shiny, new, D.E.O. therapist ( _ugh,_ she can’t get Alex’s smirk out of her mind), that’s okay. That’s expected. That’s _valid_.

And, again following her therapist’s guidance, Kara already confided in Alex and some of their friends about this moment the day before. They’d comforted and empowered her, trusting her to regain Lena’s trust and friendship, not just for Kara’s own sake, but for the entire Super Friends group—who’d come to embrace Lena as one of their own.

Kara’s phone lights up with a few encouraging texts from Alex and the others, continuing their reassurances from yesterday. She reads each of them, but leaves them without response for now—except Alex’s.

She tells Alex she’s on her way to Lena, and Alex replies with a simple, affirmative, _good luck, you got this, I love you_.

From there, Kara finds herself at L-Corp all too soon, staring up at the tall building looming overhead. She could easily surpass the building’s height in altitude in less than a second with her powers, but that offers no solutions to this problem.

Some problems can’t be solved with brute force or speed, and that isn’t unique to the human experience; these kinds of problems have existed in her life when she’s lived on both Krypton and Earth. Human or alien, a friendship problem is a friendship problem.

Kara enters the building slowly, taking her time getting to the elevator. Given her heightened general anxiety, her stomach twists at the idea of being confided into the small space of the elevator right now, a part of her insisting she should have flown after all, but she swallows it down with a deep, calming breath as the elevator arrives.

The ride passes slowly, Kara’s heart threatening to beat itself out of her chest, and she tries her best to breathe deeply in silence, so as to not disturb those also in the elevator. Finally, she arrives on Lena’s floor, and steps out.

Jess nods at her when Kara steps into view. “She’s expecting you,” she says, her voice betraying no emotion. Kara wonders how much Lena told her about their…falling out.

Rather than dwell on that, Kara nods back her thanks, and shyly pushes her way through the doors leading into Lena’s office.

“Lena?” Kara says nervously, just before she sees Lena, looking at her expectantly from where she stands, leaning against the front of her desk.

“Supergirl,” Lena says evenly, arms crossed in a way that makes Kara ready to book it out Lena’s window at a speed of _two_ thousand miles an hour. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I wanted to talk,” Kara reminds. “About…us. And what went down.”

“What would you say ‘went down’?” Lena asks, borrowing her words.

“Please, just…listen,” Kara says, standing straight, breathing deeply, her therapist-of-literally-one-day’s words swirling around her brain, in English, translated into Kryptonian, and back into English, a strangely calming cycle. “I know what I did was wrong, and I’m sorry. I understand my reasons may come across as shallow to you. But they’re still my reasons, and I’d like you to listen to them.”

For a moment, Kara expects Lena to refuse her outright and send her away. But, perhaps out of a morbid curiosity, Lena just looks at her to go on.

Kara clears her throat softly. “Yes, I did it to protect you. Yes, I always wanted to tell you someday, when the time was right, on my own terms. But most importantly, I hadn't told you because you gave me this—this validation for my human experiences and identity that nobody else so close to me could ever give, since they all knew I wasn’t biologically human.

“But now I’ve realized that wasn’t a healthy validation. Yes, I have human experiences, but I do still have my Kryptonian experiences, and the two are undeniably intertwined. Denying my Kryptonian heritage to you became a way for me to deny it to myself, when I wanted to distance myself from it. And that’s not fair to either of us.”

Kara’s still expecting Lena to kick her to the curb sooner rather than later, but Lena’s face has actually softened slightly—probably unnoticeable to others, but not to Kara.

“You may have similar experiences as an adoptee,” Kara says carefully, “but I know for me, the transition from one family, one _world_ , to another, left me with more trauma than I realized, and that affected how I grew up. Assimilating was survival. And until I became Supergirl, assimilating was my everyday life. Embracing my powers part-time while still trying to assimilate full-time made me realize how bad that was. It wasn’t until our conversation last week that I began to truly understand that, and try to actually heal from what has happened to me.

“I don’t say this to make you feel sorry for me, or feel obligated to forgive me. You wanted an explanation, you _deserved_ an explanation, and I’ve finally obtained it. Not just for you, but for myself,” Kara finishes. “I don’t expect us to just…go back to how things were before or anything, but I want to work on our relationship, if you’re willing to, too.”

Lena’s expression remains unchanged, and Kara’s about ready to accept that this is it for them. She’s said her piece; there’s not much else she can do, within her power, to reconnect with Lena. And yet, that doesn’t stop the tears from gathering in Kara’s eyes.

At the sight, Lena’s posture relaxes.

“That was…a lot,” she says. “But I think I understand better now.”

Kara tries not to hope.

“Honestly, I still need time to heal myself,” Lena says. “I’m not ready to move on from what happened...”

Kara stifles the urge to fly out the window at _three_ thousand miles an hour.

“…Yet,” Lena finishes. “Despite my better judgment, I’ve realized I’m not ready to give up on us, either.”

Kara can’t help the tears that spill over at that.

“I need time,” Lena warns, but hands Kara a tissue, anyway.

“Of course,” Kara says through sniffles, wiping at her runny nose.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Lena says after a beat, as if hesitant to exchange an olive branch of interest in Kara’s emotional development. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

“Yeah, the repression ran deep with that one,” Kara says with a wet laugh, and, _wow_ , she’s certain she’s never appeared lamer in front of someone she loved so much than in this moment.

But Lena can’t stop herself, and in the blink of an eye, Kara finds herself in one of Lena’s rare, patented hugs. She tries not to return it to quickly, trying to play it cool, but she can’t help how tightly her arms snake around Lena’s small frame.

“Are you going to be okay?” Lena asks at Kara’s frantic movements.

“…Yeah. I think so,” Kara says. “I…started therapy, actually.”

Lena snorts. “How does that even work?”

Kara laughs in return, unable to stop herself from settling further into the hug. “Surprisingly well. If you’re ever interested in highly confidential and secure therapy…hit me up?”

***

Within a week after that, Lena does, indeed, hit Kara up.

Kara can’t quite hide the surprise in her voice when Lena asks, but she reins it in quickly, so as to not scare Lena off. She passes along her therapist’s number, happy to help.

Aside from that, her communication with Lena is scattered, as Kara wants to give her the time and space to heal on her own. She trusts that when Lena is ready, she’ll come to her. For now, Kara will wait, arms open for whenever Lena decides to return.

(“Is it okay that I gave her your number?” Kara asks her therapist right off the bat during their next session, after realizing her epic show of support through therapy connections may have put her therapist into an awkward position.

But her therapist reassures her with a wave of her hand. “You and Lena are the exact kind of people I’m here to work with—the people who’ve had experiences that maybe the average human with no aliens in their life may not understand.”

“Plus a specialization in immigrants and refugees,” Kara adds with a tiny smile.

Her therapist offers a bigger smile in return. “Plus that.”)

***

Kara still feels the winds of Krypton with her when she flies.

That burden of Krypton’s legacy still rests squarely on her shoulders as she pierces the blue sky, but this time, she returns the smiles and waves of the humans below, returning their appreciation.

She still has a lot to figure out, a lot of trauma to unpack in therapy and with her found family. But now that she’s begun the process, a strange weightlessness has come to counteract Krypton’s heaviness in her heart, as Alex’s words about Kara’s flourishing finally seem comprehensible in her brain.

She is Krypton’s legacy, regardless of her actions. Every breath she takes, every moment she’s _alive_ , she’s winning for them, for everyone.

(When the time is healthy, she also begins documenting her memories of Krypton in a journal, not from a far-away, unbiased, historical standpoint, but her own perspective and experiences.

Once she finishes, she plans to pass the journal onto Kal-El, so he can document his childhood experiences on Earth, to document the _changing_ legacy of Krypton, that maybe one of them will continue through future children.

When she admits her plan to Kal-El during his next visit, not long after his last visit, he cries, and she realizes it’s the first time she’s truly considered him an equal in continuing Krypton’s legacy.)

As Kara flies, she thinks of all the times in her life she’d itched to take to the skies, basking in the Earth’s yellow sun, a reprieve from the anxiety fueling her desire to hide away forever. Through her disguise as Supergirl, she realizes, she’d managed to hide herself in a different way, separating herself as a person from herself as a person with _powers_.

She’s done thinking like that now, she decides.

Today, her flight takes her to Lena’s office balcony, where she lands softly, the cement studying her feet.

She’s nervous.

But when Lena turns and looks to her, a smile quickly overtaking her expression, Kara relaxes immediately.

With the proper time, the proper space, and the proper therapeutic measures, Kara finds herself back in Lena’s life, in Lena’s _heart_ , in a space different than what she’d occupied before the reveal, but still, undeniably, large.

Lena takes Kara’s shaking hands into her own with a warmth rivaling that of the yellow sun, and Kara feels a dopey smile form on her face.

“Kara,” Lena greets, despite the ends of Kara’s super suit sleeves touching her fingers.

(“Supergirl _is_ me,” Kara had explained to Lena once, in the midst of their healing, with the careful mediation of their now-shared therapist before them. “But not to the people I love. I want to be…I _am_ Kara first.”

She bunched the end of her sleeve to wipe at her wet eyes, and noticed Lena looking at her, realizing.

“That’s why you wanted to stay Kara for me,” Lena asked more than said, guessing.

“Only Kara can truly say what she wanted,” their therapist reminded.

Kara nodded with an embarrassingly loud sniffle. “I’m just _me_ , Lena.”

Lena returned the nod, understanding.)

“Hi, Lena,” Kara returns softly.

“What are you feeling for lunch today?” Lena asks, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and Kara realizes, as a startling calm settles in her body, it _is_.

“You pick,” Kara says.

“I picked last time,” Lena says. “You should.”

“Hmm…how about we just walk around and see what’s good in the moment?” Kara suggests.

“Great idea,” Lena says, pressing a quick kiss against her lips. “You should change.”

Lena gestures to her private bathroom, away from the windows, and Kara nods her thanks.

***

Kara and Lena walk down the street, hand-in-hand, and Kara realizes she feels that same thrill now that she does when flying—the feeling of Krypton with her, not just weighing against her.

She looks up to the sun while Lena stops to look at the menu of a café, squinting at its brightness. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, taking in the moment, feeling the sun’s yellow rays seeping into her skin and Krypton’s hopes, dreams, and legacy living within her.

She silently promises the sky that she will always remember, and will never again regret.

**Author's Note:**

> like i mentioned before my main inspo here is the trauma kara has experienced being an alien and how that's affected her relationship to herself, her identity, and others. for example i feel like the show and fics have kinda normalized this thing of her being mean to clark about krypton all the time which ???? in reality, ppl who migrate have very complicated relationships to their identities and places of origin!! clark was a baby when he came to earth and was alone; if he say wanted nothing to do with krypton bc he only knew earth as his home, that's his decision and it's valid. it isn't kara's right to judge how much or how little he knows/wants to know/etc. abt krypton bc they have such different experiences !!
> 
> also i'm not speaking from the personal experience of immigrating myself, but my grandparents did immigrate here, and my mom was born and raised here, so i've seen this stuff firsthand. and i've studied it in school!!! (i have an asian american studies minor!!)
> 
> let me know what y'all think :^))) also i drunk watched the 100th ep last night so feel free to come chat with me on [tumblr](https://crazyrichfilipinos.tumblr.com/) abt it!


End file.
